


All I Need

by OwlOfMyLove



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cursed Storybrooke, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-07
Updated: 2016-10-07
Packaged: 2018-08-19 07:13:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8195491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OwlOfMyLove/pseuds/OwlOfMyLove
Summary: Unhappily married, Belle struggles to find the strength to leave her husband. Fortunately Mr. Gold is there to provide a gentle push in the right direction.





	

It was the sound of him stumbling through the door that broke her out of her light sleep.

Silently, Belle cursed her husband for staying out so late for a drink during a weekday and disrupting the little sleep she was able to grasp hold of before her alarm screeched at her to start the day. No doubt sleep was gone now and if she was to be so lucky, her mind would drift off a bit to allow her to think she was sleeping. It had been like this for several months now and Belle could not remember the last night where she had a decent night's rest without Greyson rudely awaking her. 

Rolling over onto her stomach, Belle buried her face into her pillow and let out a muffled groan of frustration, wishing the tears would willingly flow from her eyes to express how exhausted and vexed she was in this moment. 

It felt like hours before he finally made it to the bathroom and turned on the shower where he would stay for over half an hour, letting the water go cold before he'd sober up enough to clean himself and head to bed and despite the bathroom being on the opposite side of the household, Belle could hear the water pouring down as if a nasty storm was rolling it's way through Storybrooke and ready to burst through the ceiling and curse her with a leaky roof. Tonight she wished such a thing would happen and she would drown in a flooded bedroom; at least then she'd be able to sleep. 

Months of this now and Belle could not exactly tell you a number.

"Months," she would murmur to herself when she'd talk to herself about the frustrations in the marriage, but the months were beginning to add up and now she questioned herself if it was more appropriate to say "years" when she self-vented. At the moment, time blended together and before she knew it thirty years will have slipped by with nothing to show for it but unhappiness and a life that had been mostly spent in Storybrooke. 

The marriage was on it's last thread of life and Belle questioned how much longer it would be until she finally gathered up the strength and walked away from the marriage.

Greyson was aware of Belle's unhappiness and while she proposed the idea of couple's counseling, more time spent with each other rather than apart, or perhaps even a trip to Boston, he shot each of them down with an instant promise to do better. A promise held true for a week before things returned to their deteriorating ways.

Belle was useful to him and she knew he would keep ahold of her to keep those uses around. Without her, the house would be a disastrous filth and no food would ever be prepared for in all of his years and attempts of Belle to teach her husband how to cook, it never took. She picked up where his mother left off and with each month that dragged by, she felt more like a maternal figure than his wife to be equal. 

Independence was still a strong suite of Greyson's despite his lack of knowledge of efforts in household tasks. He liked to prove how masculine he was with his extracurricular activities of athleticism and his years on the high school and college teams for wrestling was the glory he held on to and would never let die. Attention was diligent towards continued workout sessions to maintain a nice physic that once would catch Belle's wandering eyes. Greyson was still admired throughout Storybrooke and each year, aspiring wrestlers that joined the high school teams would ask him for advice and pointers, anything to be as strong and talented as her husband and he had no trouble going to the practices if they did not interfere with work and coaching the youth.

Work and his status were important and he took great pride in his job at city hall, proud of the fact that only two people in town more powerful and successful than him was the Madam Mayor and the harsh Pawnbroker that owned nearly all of their quiet Maine town. 

It had not always been this way and while difficult to recall on night's where she was more tired than usual, there were happy memories of their earlier years together. It was through the diligent efforts of her Father, who begged that she date somebody,  _anybody_ , that wasn't between the pages of a book. He presented Greyson as educated, talented, and incredibly charming, all of which he was.

While not a vocal dreamer, he listened to Belle as she swooned with the ideas of traveling around the world and the books she had read that captured her interest. He walked along side her by the piers, gently holding her hand and telling her sweet things, promises of adventures and a life that would be meaningful and not leaving them cursed in Storybrooke until their dying days. He, or so she had foolishly assumed, shared her interests without speaking of them with her. He proposed to her after a brief nine months of dating and while not incredibly young, she was naive and took little thought into how she hardly knew the intimate details of the man she agreed to marry. They had their whole life to learn about each other and that was what excited her the most; marrying while young but spending their remaining days together unfolding the layers that created them such as the example set by her own parents. 

How foolish was she to expect a relationship built on the childish words of True Love. 

Her body tosses and turns on the bed, unable to find a comfortable position and she no longer keeps her curses towards her husband in her quiet mind but through gritted hisses. 

From the beginning of their relationship, Belle always put in as much effort as she could to make them both happy. A warm and inviting home was decorated by her that she felt best represented the two of them, meals were prepared with his preferences in mind, and she did what she could to continue building their communication and intimacy. Greyson however was too attached to his bachelor life and continued with such behaviour with many nights wasted at The Rabbit Hole. He was stubborn, and  would argue with her ideas for encouraging communication and ways of intimacy that did not involve sexual acts. 

He needed time to adjust to married life, Belle told herself in the beginning after every disappointing moment, and in time he will settle into the new routine of how his life was. Things will improve, be better, be happier all in time.

The water shut off and Belle let out a sigh into the pillow; hopeful that he would not bother to enter the marital bed.

Belle failed to remember the last time Greyson joined her in bed, physically or otherwise. Intimacy was gone from their marriage and while at first Greyson moaned about how he needed sexual acts from his wife, he never made the attempts to woo her back into the bedroom. Soon after their first year of marriage, Belle was almost entirely repulsed by sex with him and was never satisfied with Greyson noisily thrusting into her. She feigned headaches and exhaustion, her attraction to him slipping more as the months passed and it took only half a year before her husband sought the comfort of another woman. 

Belle was surprised when she discovered the affair and never spoke a word of it to her husband. She didn't know who the woman, or women, was and as long as he never attempted to snake his way between her legs ever again he could continue. A long-term sexual desire in her head made her less than innocent and if Greyson knew who her thoughts drifted towards, would he declare she had no right to leave him on the grounds of infidelity when she could not be faithful to him mentally? She scoffed at the thought of that. Unlike her husband, Belle had remained faithful since their first encounter and only dishonest mentally when she placed her hand between her thighs and touched herself to the thoughts of another man instead. 

There was little time left before her alarm would go off and she wished just once that the library would be closed on a Friday and that the children of Storybrooke Elementary were not walking over for their bi-monthly field trip to select a book that was greater than the small library within the school. The morning would not call for her to be there the moment the Storybrooke Public Library opened but there were errands to be run and bills to be paid before it was her turn to take over from sweet Ashley who was nine months pregnant and balancing a rotating schedule between a morning shift at the library and Granny's Diner.

Greyson himself was due to his office before nine and Belle always wondered how these late nights with his friends and drinking had not caught up with his work. How had the Mayor not caught him asleep at his desk or so far behind on paperwork that had glaring deadlines? Perhaps, Belle told herself, it was because Greyson had no troubles falling to sleep and resting so peacefully after a fun night doing what he loved. It was also possible he slept on the couch at the home of a friends, or the woman he was currently seeing, before stumbling back to his residence and disturbing his wife who only saw him for a few minutes that day before he left. 

As she expected, little sleep was gained between the moment Greyson returned home and her alarm went off. 

In the mirror she could hardly recognize herself and she felt older than she appeared to be. Her eyes carried chronic exhaustion in them, bags were under her eyes that reminded her of bruises, unkempt hair from a rough attempt to properly rest, topped with shoulders that slumped to declare to her reflection that she was not ready for the day to begin and wanted more than anything to crawl back into bed and sleep the next decade away. 

Effort and time was put towards masking her appearance. Her chestnut locks were left down after being brushed, always liking her hair down and covering her shoulders as if they were a protective cloak and letting the Autumn wind dance with it, making her feel younger and calmer than she truly was. The real effort was with the makeup that she carefully applied to hide the bags and signs of exhaustion; stained lips with a shade to match the season and a hint of rouge to add colour into otherwise lifeless face. Completely the look with a beige skirt and burgundy top, she was feeling and looking normal and enough so that no one would ask her why she was tired or why she looked so horribly worn out. No one needed to know of their marital woes when, without cheating or abuse, the residents would justify were nonexistent. 

Belle was quiet as she slipped out of what was once a shared marital bed and tip-toed past the guest bedroom where her husband was asleep, snoring loudly and oblivious to his wife's discomfort with how their living arrangement now was. Moments she had once longed for her husband were now replaced with the desire to see him as little as possible. She was happier this way even if it was hardly an improvement. 

Beige Mary-Jane's to match her skirt and a toggle coat for warmth just in case the weather would unexpectedly turn dark again, were added to her ensemble before she left the house, hopeful that her appearance worked in her favour to hide the desolation that the marriage was cursing her with. 

* * *

 At Granny's Diner she was quick with her order; a bagel and a coffee. Today was rent day and usually playful Granny, along with the rest of Storybrooke, would be in a sour mood until tomorrow. There was no time for a cheery morning chat with Granny or anyone else as it would be in vain. 

If the truth be told, rent day never bothered her like it did the rest of the citizens even though her money went to the same man as everyone else's. Belle never found him to be as intimidating as the town wrote him up to be and it was not as if he was particularly rude when collecting. Of course the method of having one man travel around town and collect rent was archaic for the time but that was what gave Storybrooke it's charm and if he had to do it alone, having it ready with a friendly smile was the least she could do to make everything more pleasant. 

While waiting in line for her breakfast, she had heard the latest town gossip and this time it was one that caught her attention; the Mayor's adopted son had ran away to Boston in search of his Birth Mother and not only did he find her, he brought her to Storybrooke! If the story wasn't interesting enough already, additional rumours, be they true or not, were fluttering around that some one had seen Sheriff Graham bringing her back into town and putting her in a cell for the night after she crashed her car at the outskirts of town.

The last bit seemed almost a bit too much like something one would expect from a tabloid but it didn't stop Belle, and the others, from wondering how true the details were to this whole story.  

Errands were quick to be taken care of and all the bills were organized and ready from the night before to save herself the hassle and disorganization that she might have encountered at the bank or when she encountered her landlord.

Her coffee was still on the full size and only half of her bagel had been finished by the time everything was finished and Belle was grateful that there was time to enjoy a bit of reading in the park and finish up her coffee before she was to take over the library for the remainder of the day. A mental note was made to let this be Ashley's last day until she was recovered from having her baby. There was no use in making the poor girl work both her jobs up until her due date, even if the library one was minimal. 

Storybrooke had many parks and yet there was only one that Belle truly adored. It was the same that appealed to all the residents that did not have a child. A beautiful view of the sea without any of the piers, a simple walking path that the elderly residents and pet owners used religiously, and a darling park bench to overlook the entire thing. It was simplistic and almost out of the way from where she lived and worked but perhaps it was that one detail that allowed Belle to love it so.

Already therapist Archie and his dear friend Marco, along with Archie's Dalmatian Pongo, were taking their ritual walk. It was an hour every day as the two friends lapped the path discussing whatever crossed their minds or what new news there was to share. Today they were also on the discussion of Henry Mills and his Birth Mother.

"I did meet her on my walk with Pongo," Archie said in an enthusiastic voice, "she didn't seem to have any idea that Henry was Regina's son!"

Marco listened intently as Archie gave vivid details of the brief, but obviously encounter with the mysterious Birth Mother and Belle couldn't help but wish someone had more news about what had happened after the alleged car accident. Was she really taken back to the station for the night? Was she going to stay? How exactly was Mayor Regina Mills handling this infringement? There were many questions to be asked and though it was no information, the gossip had taken her away from her book that was the purpose of coming to the park this morning.

Well, not the only purpose.

It was always roughly twenty minutes, not that she ever kept track, when he arrived for his own brief walk around the park path. Dressed in the finest of suites, today an unusual choice of black and white checkered dress top that was unlike his tradition of solid colours, his cane tapping with his strides, and his almost permanent scowl that she quietly adored. Older than she and possibly the most, if not only, hated man in the entire town. The reason why Storybrooke arose with a bitter mood that would not change until tomorrow when he was finished picking up their months rent.

The reason she was mentally unfaithful to her husband.  

Mr. Gold always took a walk short walk in the mid-morning and almost always was Belle there sitting on the bench with a coffee beside her and book in her hands, pretending not to stare while the pages were ignored. Mr. Gold always stopped by to briefly chat with her on the mornings she too was at the park so the distraction from reading wasn't an entire waste. 

It was not as if Mr. Gold was uncharacteristically kind to her. He was reserved with her as he was with the rest of the town and kept their conversations brief when they did share words but Belle swore that when they encountered one another the walls around Mr. Gold shook in the slightest way that allowed her to peak inside the man. 

Most mornings he lapped around her once or twice before stopping but this morning he appeared to be in a talkative mood himself. Although Mr. Gold seemed above silly town gossip, perhaps he too wanted to delve into this growing topic or even had something new to share with her?

"Mr. Gold," Belle greeted with a smile and closes her book onto her lap to present him undivided attention.

His lips twitched into a quick smile. "Miss French."

Since her marriage, he's the only one who continued to call her by her maiden name. The sound of her former name escaping his lips sent a warming sensation between her thighs each time and she could not help but be the slightest bit ashamed that she allowed herself to react such a way. 

"And what literature are we indulging ourselves in today?" 

He never failed to ask her the title of the new adventure she was wrapped around in and if the title had interested him enough, which it almost always did, he was sure to stop by the library before the day was out to request a copy of the same story. Mr. Gold never returned the book and offered to spark up a brief discussion about the literature despite prodding every time she knew he had a free moment to talk and that was what she found most frustrating about him. 

"The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger," she replied in a hazy voice while hopeful that this time he would take interest in the plot and say something, anything, about it. 

Gold dragged his eyes across the worn down cover and watched as Belle attempted to smooth out the curling paperback cover to give him the best view. Hoping that he was staring at her thumb and not the cover, she slowly continued to trace the digit across the stubborn curl and spoke softly to provide a summary about what the story would hold, withholding the amount of detailed sex and the use of the word  _cunt_ that was typed upon the pages. 

Belle always held the classic literature in her hands. Stories like Les Misérables or Wuthering Heights were more common to be in her hands than something more modern. Even the name caused Mr. Gold to react momentarily with a cocked eyebrow.  

"Should I have a copy ready for you to pick up later today?" 

"One without a curling cover would be deeply appreciated Miss French." His eyes were drawn to her thumb, she was certain of it, and the attention excited her. 

"Of course, Mr. Gold. I have several hardcovers on the shelf and the best one will be waiting for you."

"I look forward to it." He smiled long enough for her to catch it. 

Slowly, Belle pulled her hand away from the cover and reached into her coat pocket. "I have this months rent here for you." The envelope was snug between two long fingers as she extended her arm out, hoping by reaching for it he would make contact with her skin and give her something to think about later in the evening.

"Always a pleasure that you willingly present the rent. Other residents should take a lesson from you and maybe then collecting would not be nearly as hassling as it is."

He leans forward with the support of his cane and reaches for the envelope, carefully dragging a finger from the knuckle on her index finger to the tip until the envelope was secure in his own grasp. The touch was more than she anticipated and with the sensation still pulsating on her finger she let out a low gasp; it was the most intimate she had been with him to date and the sensation between her thighs only grew warmer. 

"If you wore something other than skirts, you might not be so cold," he noted when her gasp escaped her and then tucked the envelope in his breast pocket. "Autumn may still hold warmth but your shivers will only worsen if you keep this up when the snow falls." 

"That's what leggings are for," she countered. "With them I'll be able to wear my skirts year round."

Gold's eyes did not drift to her legs that were bare and quite honestly cold in the Autumn morning. Belle wished that he would stare; she was giving him permission to look for as long as he liked and instead Gold kept his gaze upon her face. The gaze did not bother her the slightest. Gold stared at her in a way Greyson never had and though his face held the same expression it always had for as long as she had known him, Belle swore to herself that his eyes told her something else. 

"I apologize Miss French, but I have rent to collect and still a great portion of the town to deal with."

Her shoulder slumped in the slightest. "Oh, but Mr. Gold did you hear about Storybrooke's visitor?" It was a desperate attempt to continue with the conversation and she chided herself for using a cheap move. 

The interest was caught however. "I didn't take you as one to indulge in town gossip."

"I-I don't. Not usually," she sputtered, "but to hear that Henry Mills brought back his Birth Mother and the mystery around her is rather fascinating in itself wouldn't you think? There isn't very much going around the town yet and I'm certain that you know as much, if not more, than I do about the situation."

Gold broke away his gaze and watched the cars that passed behind the bench where Belle sat. "I'm sorry to tell you that I know as much as you do and that the topic is hardly of interest to me."

"Of course," Belle shook her head and chided herself a second time. "I wouldn't expect you to fall into the gossip either."

"Until later, Miss French?"

"Yes. Good-bye Mr. Gold."

* * *

After taking over from Ashley, Belle was prepared to use any menial task that the library needed to keep her mind off the foolish attempt she made to keep her conversation with Gold aflame. There would be very few book returns until the students from the elementary arrived after lunch and the only tasks that would keep her extremely busy that wasn't stacking books was the end of day clean up.

Behind the circulation desk, Belle sketched on the notepad before her and continued to criticize herself; too distracted to return to her book again and too exhausted to focus proper attention towards the plot. 

Still married to a man who she knew was having an affair, unhappy for longer than she could even begin to remember, and desperately attempting to retrieve attention to use as supplies for a sexual fantasy from her landlord, the town's Pawnbroker whose office was just a short walk away. 

Why on earth was she still married to Greyson after all this time? The affair had been going on for some time now and more time was spent at the mystery woman's home than the one he was supposed to be sharing with her. Belle could only recall unhappy memories rather than ones that would leave her with a smile and going on the affair alone, she had enough cause to walk into the closest lawyer's office and ask for the paperwork to begin the process without guilt. 

The rumours of the Birth Mother stopped her. 

Guilt would follow. Not induced by herself but the residents. The Birth Mother had been in town for hardly a day and yet all of Storybrooke spoke of her and what they thought of the situation around her arrival. If she stayed or not, the rumours would eventually catch up to her and the woman did not deserve that. Belle would eventually become no different when word slipped that she was arranging to leave Greyson. 

The idea of becoming Storybrooke's latest bit of gossip was almost enough to cause her to back away from the thoughts of pursuing a divorce. It was a strong reason but not the only and the second, perhaps even stronger, reason she stopped herself from ever following through. Stigma towards divorced women didn't appear to be the same anymore and it was a social norm but Storybrooke was old fashioned in many ways that Belle knew would leave her with whispers, stares, and stories that would follow her until she moved as far as possible away from Storybrooke.

And yet, even leaving Storybrooke seemed like an impossible dream atop of the divorce. Her Father's flower shop was providing well enough but since her Mother's death she could not stand the thought of leaving him alone. Worse yet with the rumours that would potentially follow, she did not want any harm to go to her Father's business because of her actions. 

If she did not leave, Belle knew she'd pursue Mr. Gold once she moved forward with the divorce. Foolishly making a spectacle of herself in front of him and while she trusted that he would not share the details of her humiliating attempt to pursue him, she would not be able to look at Mr. Gold ever again without recalling her pitiful attempt. 

Belle scribbled over the notepad and noisily sighed. No matter the choice she made, there would be a blanket of unhappiness waiting for her. 

* * *

When the students from Storybrooke Elementary arrived to select their new books the gossip of the Birth Mother pulled her away from her thoughts of divorce. 

The details were more interesting than anticipated; the woman had indeed spent the night in the cell. Henry Mills never came to school that morning but the Birth Mother visited with Miss Mary Margaret Blanchard about the child and the two teachers that brought their classes gossiped about every detail except for the name of the woman. No one had yet to reveal her name and Belle was forced to continue title her as Birth Mother. 

Madam Mayor was furious, as Belle and the rest of Storybrooke expected when the news broke, and she seemed to hold an even nastier glare than the one she wore whenever she crossed Belle or Mary Margaret on the street. 

The details continued to be sparse and as much as curiosity peaked in the Librarian, she knew one day she could very will be in the exact situation and forced herself to reserve away from the teachers and focus what she could towards the children that needed help searching for books.  

* * *

Mr. Gold arrived within the half hour of the children leaving; the tap of his cane reminding her that she had neglected to pull the book from the shelf and have it ready. 

"Busy today, Miss French?" His voice was almost playful when she beat him to acknowledging the book was not properly reserved. He would not scold her for it, never had before, and out of his busy day he was more than willing to wait for her to retrieve it. 

"Always when the children come to visit," she smiled. "I'll be right back with a hard copy for you. If you'd please have your library card out for me by the time I get back we can have you out and finishing your errands in no time.

Three copies; two hard back and one paper as she promised earlier were waiting on the shelf. Belle pulled the two hard covers from the shelf and examined them both, making sure she could find the one that would look most appealing in Mr. Gold's hands. While she herself did not care how worn the cover was, she knew Mr. Gold was a man of finer things and finer things meant a book cover that was the most free from markings. 

Mr. Gold's cane tapped along the linoleum and quickly approached the aisle where she was debating between which book would be best to present to him. No doubt he was approaching her to remind her of his pressed schedule and doing so politely, rather than hollering in the library.  

"I'm so sorry," Belle quickly pushed the rejected copy back onto the shelf and straightened her form out, "I've got it right here, ready to go."

"But how much sex is enough? For me? Oh, God. My idea of the perfect life would be if we just stayed in bed all the time."

A shiver ran up Belle's spine and a soft exhale escaped her. She had to be mistaken that she heard the words come from Gold as there was no possible way he would ever be so upfront with her in regards to sex. 

"Mr. Gold?"

"Your choice of literature this time around is vastly different than the others." Belle could hear his cane tap as Gold walked closer until he stood directly behind her. "A rather interesting mixture of love, time, and sex it would appear."

She had been unaware the words from him came from the story she proposed. Belle locked her knees in an attempt to not be, in a literal sense of the word, swayed by the way Gold spoke to her. "Are you no longer interested in it?"

"On the contrary," his face inches closer towards her and his crooked nose makes light contact with the back of her scalp, "I'm rather taken with it already."

A moan was caught her throat. Countless fantasies flooded her mind and every intimate one of Mr. Gold between her legs rushed towards her, forcing her stiff legs to unlock and wobble in the slightest. He did not reach out and stabilize her and Belle was quick to assume he liked watching her raw reaction. Still, she could not force herself to turn around and instantly wrap her arms around his neck and passionately kiss him, releasing the moan that was trapped. 

"I'm thinking about leaving my husband," she exhales in a wavering voice and still with her back towards him.

"Is that so?" 

With a gentle touch, Belle felt Gold place a hand around her waist and guided her to turn around and face him. Her cheeks are a violent shade of red. Out of everything to say with Mr. Gold before her she chose to mention Greyson. 

"I don't know why I said that."

His touch remains and the expression he wears is, to her relief, nonjudgmental. Instead his eyes are focused on her lips as his way to almost beg to her that he wants to kiss her. 

"If you would, Miss French, allow me to give you a push towards freeing yourself." Gold holds her more tender than Greyson ever did and as he pulled her closer towards him to where their bodies made contact she allows the suppressed moan to be released. She's not only sex starved, but malnourished from attention too and Gold reads her body language like a book that almost presents her starvation in bold font. 

The kiss is soft and from their contact a second, more quiet, moan slips away from Belle. Gold pushed onto her lips more firmly than she expected and sucked momentarily on her bottom lip before pulling away with a satisfied expression etched across his face.

"I'm still...married."

"Of course," Gold took his hand slowly away from her waist and grabbed onto to the book. "I hope this was just the push you needed Miss French." He turned away from her and headed for the circulation desk to which she followed without another word.

Once Gold had left the library to finish his collections Belle allowed herself to release a noisy exhale. 

A push? Was that all she truly needed to finally remove herself from her solitary marriage to Greyson? Were the ongoing affairs, emotional abandonment, and upfront unhappiness not enough for her? 

The Birth Mother. Stigma. Rumours. 

Of course. That was the exact reason she had been convincing herself not to leave him this morning before Mr. Gold walked in and shifted her plans around. Belle could not recall off the top of her head who the last couple in Storybrooke to divorce were and as she ran through the list of residents in the town she could note that while there were breakups, no divorces seemed recent. If she were to leave Greyson, she'd push aside the Birth Mother story before the day was out. 

Belle placed an index finger to her lips and recalled the fresh memory of Gold kissing her. While soft and brief, it was the most alive and desired she had felt in years. 

_Alive_.

A feeling she could barely remember had been so generously given to her by Gold, willingly. She smiled at the thought of Gold kissing her again and again and the smile on her lips grew with each recollection of how he pushed her. Greyson never kissed her to where she felt alive or floating away, even before their marriage began to crumble. Her husband was too busy with other affairs to focus on her and her own desires while she couldn't help but feel that Gold may encourage the dreams of travel she kept quiet about after years of disregard from the one person who was supposed to support them. Even if Gold did not love her, Belle knew that he would send her off with the kindest words when she left for her travels and that there in itself was almost enough. 

The attachment that kept reigning her back into Greyson loosened and Belle leaned back into her chair with a long exhale. This was it; she was strong enough to end it.

Almost too eagerly, Belle locked up the library and headed towards her car with the mindset of approaching an attorney first thing in the morning. The library could open late for the sake of happiness. 

Rounding the corner to the library parking lot that was across from the bed and breakfast attached to Granny's Diner, a yellow bug parked out front caught her eye. No doubt it belonged to the Birth Mother who needed a place to stay while she was given the opportunity to know her son, however brief that may be. Belle made a mental note to approach the Birth Mother before her departure and welcome her to Storybrooke without holding the rumours next to her. 

The door to the bed and breakfast noisily closed and Belle looked to the door, hopeful that this could be her chance to talk to the woman now. Instead, Gold slowly made his way down the deteriorating steps with the most distracted look upon his face. 

"Mr. Gold!" She ran across the street and met with him by the time he reached the bottom of the steps. "I-I just wanted to thank you for the push. I'm going to speak with an attorney tomorrow and leave him; take control of my life and be happy." 

His expression had changed now; distraction was gone now but replaced by perturbation.

"Mr. Gold? Is everything alright?" 

Shakily he extended an arm and grabbed ahold of her shoulder, giving it the lightest of squeezes. "You're really here."

In response, Belle extended an arm of her own out and took hold of Gold's shoulder, taking note of his trembling body. She had never seen him such a state before; Mr. Gold was always confident and erect and yet before her was a shaking man who looked as if he would drop to her feet in a moment. 

"Mr. Gold do you want me to take you home?" 

Gold's hand released her shoulder and moved towards her face, gently stroking her cheek with his palm outwards and stability returning to his form. With a voice not laced with lust but love entangled with hope, he offered something different. 

"Kiss me?"

Belle did not need to be asked twice. In an instant her purse fell to the ground with a soft _thunk_  and both of her arms were around him, kissing him with the passion she reserved herself from in the library. No moans escaped from her this time as she knew Gold's kisses would leave her satisfied be they big or small. Now she could enjoy the kiss with an almost clear conscious and focus on the many more she would be ever so fortunate to take hold of. The arm that Gold did not rely on to help him with his cane was firmly around her, bringing her closer towards him as he kissed her with more emotion, more passion that did not underline he expected sex but rather more sensual actions like more opportunities to continue kissing her. From their first kiss he caught that she liked that he sucked on her lip but Belle took control this time, preforming the action himself and letting a slow release of his bottom lip when they parted. 

Her cheeks were pink and rather than pull away from him she embraced him once again. His arms remained protective around her as if to tell her he had only wanted to keep her safe all this time. Gold buried his crooked nose into her hair and inhaled her scent, savouring the smell and whispering out her name that Belle doubted she would hear had his mouth not been so close to her ears.

Gold's words continued and were soft. Apologizing to her, cursing himself for letting her get away, promising to never harm her again and while it struck her odd, she let him say what he needed. Belle could only imagine, with the passion and sorrow entwined in his words she hopefully assumed he had cared for her as long as she had him. Was she not so foolish to rush into the arms of Greyson, it could have been Gold that gave her happiness, adventure, and love. A feeling of worth that would not resort her to the title of pretty wife, but companion, equal, and understood.

"Mr. Gold, I'll never leave you." 

 


End file.
